The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-02-06


/ had been. had noticed them before; the man
was tall, and dressed simply, IN a large white
burnous with short sleeves, leaving his arms
bare-splendid sinewy arms, with bracelet
about an inch wide, just below the shoulder. 1t
was made of yellow gold, and had Enter enam-
eled on it in blood-red fantastic letters The hood
or the burnous was drawn over his head,
and mask with very long fall of silk dis
guised him entirely The girl on bis arm wore
white domino and mask of pink velvet. She
was delicate fragile little creature. AID when
she sat on the bench near me and took off her
mask saw that she was not more than seven
teen, and had the loveliest harpiest little face,
set in deep gold hair. He seemed passionately
in love with her-he seized her little hands as if
he would crush them, and once heard him say.
For heavens sake don't look at anybody: it
drives me mad l heard no more. / only saw,
as l moved away. the happy light die out of
expression take its place; but as l
looked back she had her head nesting
on his shoulder, and he seemed to soothe her
tenderly; poor little dove Later in the even
ing was attracted by sudden confusion and
excitement, so great as to be marked, even
through the perpetual tumult of the place-a
crowd swaying and pressing noisily in one di-
rection. / pushed my way to the spot; and
there, with her fair face exposed, the long locks
already dimmed by contact with the dusty floor.
lay the white domino, her little soft hands fall
ing helplessly. A tall old woman, kneeling
down, took the poor little soulless body in her
u
against her breast. In reply to my questions,
they said that her companion "a great mask in
white cloak had suddenly shot her, through
the heart. monsieur; she fell like lamb, pauvre
petite The man had fed; they found the white
burnous lying near the door. but in the confusion
he had well and thoroughly escaped shall
never in all my life, forget the horror of that
sight The happy, innocent, pure life checked
out in an instant. and the little girlsh figure
lying the dirty floor, instead of some
dainty white bed; and then to be so miserably
surrounded by hideous, grotesque creatures, star
ing curionsy! 1t was terrible.
1.-TWO years after that was settled in Paris
studying. l had been there about year when
Anatolo Barley brought a young Englishman
to my studio, on the very day that you were
there"
At first we used to laugh little about it, but
a something in his manner soon put an end to
such joking, and we ceased to remark upon any
peculiarities. Men are apt to take other
men as they are. and we were busy
and thoughtless. Sometimes we did not
see each other for days. weeks even,
and then for month we met constantly. We
were all friends after the Bohemian fashion,
knowing and caring nothing for each others an
tecedents-living precariously like the sparrows.
poor one day and rich the next. dining sumptu-
ously in company, or going without any dinner
at all. Some attraction, or accident perhaps,
threw us, George Holcomb and me- much to-
gether. until we were considered by the rest OF
the fraternity as intimate friends. We were
affection make friends. but we were not intimate,
if confidence is necessary to intimacy. We
never spoke of our past lives; knew nothing of
what concerned him before we met; he seemed
to have no stronger link to any human creature
than to me. and after all that slender one
He was a gay companion, sympathetic, kindly.
loving nature deeply. full Of quaint knowledge
on many subjects. cannot describe him. but
ton that black drop urked somewhere in
that passionate nature. He had one
failing; he sometimes drank deeply
ard at such times, he had two
moods, one of Wild reckless gayety. in which he
did and said most brilliant things; in the other
he was gloomy and unreasonable, with flashes OF
furious short-lived anger. We seldom saw him
in this mood; he would shut himself up in his
studio. one Of the goomiest places / ever saw.
1t was a great bare ROOM with none of the arts
tic trash which encountered or enlivened the 9TH
or studios. A few pictures with their faces to
the wall, his easel and painting-box an old chair,
| a shabby bookcase-that> was all. He painted
| strange pictures; they were mastery in drawing
| andin color. but the subject always concealed
| some deadly surprise or some fatal misfortune.
A doe feeding TRANQUILITY beside stream,
while in the snasket I lion lurs s;r
| gayly tending her flowers unconscious of the
/ snake coied up among them; a child clapping
it's little hands and laughing while the earth
| crumbled beneath its feet There was one draw
| ing which still have; he handed it to one
| day that might look at a plan of something or
| the back of it. / think now that he did not
| know the drawing was on the other side. II is q
| wild whirl of devils. with cymbals and clashine
| instruments, sweeping about the PROSTATE
figure of a little white angel half hidden in its
| wings 1t is round thing, with only few
strokes, but it made powerful impression or
| me; it seemed to recall something painful an6
familiar. There were times when l fancief
there was something wrong with his brain; ono,
| he sprang up from his seat in my studio pale
and excited.
"Beldon. what's that looking over the back O
| the chair there in the dark cornerP He graspe(
my arm with a terrible grip as he spoke; he hat
been drinking then, / knew looked across thu
room and saw that some white drapery thrown
over tall old chair looked not unlike a human
form, and over it hung a little sketch hat
made some months before of a young girl will
golden hair / pointed it out to him, and, fling
ing aside my arm he went over. and taking
down the sketch, he looked at it long and earn
estly. Then he asked me almost angrily, w b.
is itr 1 said, Nobody fancy SKETCH II
still kept it in his hand, and muttered some
thing which sounded like Poor little angel
poor devil and then tossed the canvas in tn
corner, and sat silent and moody until he wen
| away. He was not often SO. The next day h
forced me to forget all strangeness in the gayet
and charm which subjugated everyone
often thought he was man who woul
have inspired most women with grea
love- mingled with great fear of him. On
evening was to have supper in my studio
farewell to Anatoe, who was going to Englan
to try his fortune. was in luck just then
. | had sold picture, and Anatole's departure wa
good excuse, if one was needed. The tabl
was laid in my studio: it gay with light
and flowers, and other thngs-things to ea
and too many things to drink, fear. Their
were fifteen guests, but we had only been seate
a few moments when Jules LIE Feveier and hi
brother were called away-some message, tel,
, gram, 1 forget what--so we were only twelve a
George was late. He came at last answerin
. our uproarous greeting .joyously, and took b
! seat by me. I saw with some regret that h
had already been drinking, though he only b.
, trayed it by a certain restlessness OF name
! and deeper flush than usual on his face. W
. were very gay. and George outshone himself;
was full of an almost boyish iollity. which gre
holder and more boisterous as the night drew OF
Il was late when some cried out, 'Hol
George, tn es lie troiziene; quel malheuI
< George only laughed, Dcs the conversatio